Sulaeke
by SetszukiLeroux
Summary: When Sulaeke's older brother is promoted to join the Rangers of Ithilien, she becomes desperately infatuated with his new captain Faramir of Gondor.
1. The Obnoxious Pig Man

**Sulaeke**

**Author's Note:**

This is my first fan-fiction, and I am looking for some constructive criticism. Although I will ask you not to flame, your opinions are welcome.

My story is mainly focused on the characters that I created (all of whom are mentioned in the disclaimer), and although the characters from the book and the movie play certain parts in the plot, they are not the main characters.

As of right now, the story is not finished, and I am looking for motivation to keep writing. Please enjoy, and remember to review!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The only characters I own are Sulaeke, Aglaron, Sadaeth, Bariur, Wicaiven, and the obnoxious pig man. More characters will be added to my list as I create them. Thank you!

**Chapter 1**

Sulaeke hurried down the crowded streets of the third level of Minas Tirith, trying desperately to keep up with the quick paces of her 20 year old sister. Sulaeke was just as eager as Sadaeth was to meet their father and brother, who were just returning from a 3-week-long scouting trip with a part of Gondor's military force.

Pushing through the swarm of people gathering to meet the homecoming party, Sulaeke soon reached the front of the assembly, just in time to hear the trumpets blow, signaling the return of the soldiers. She composed herself as well as possible, pulling her long ash-blonde hair out of her face and hastily running her fingers through it.

The gates swung open, and the captain of their division trotted his horse through the opening, shortly followed by the higher ranking soldiers, and then the foot soldiers, including her father and elder brother. She could feel a smile creep up on her face as she saw her formerly absent family members approaching. She knew that she would not be able to speak with them until they were given leave by their captain, which would probably happen later that evening, but seeing them, and knowing that they were still alive was enough to raise her spirits considerably.

She watched them as her father blew a kiss in her direction, and then one in Sadaeth's, and as her brother gave them both smiles and nods. They continued to walk forward, and Sulaeke and Sadaeth, realizing there was no more to be done here, turned and headed for home, where they would wait patiently for the rest of their family to arrive.

"Will they be here soon, Sadaeth?" Sulaeke asked impatiently, unable to concentrate on the book of poetry she usually could not take her attention away from.

"In all your 18 years of life, Sulaeke, I have never seen you so anxious," Sadaeth answered, smirking slightly as she continued to sew a patch over a hole she had discovered recently in her cloak.

"How can I help it?" Sulaeke questioned in response. "I can hardly believe it has been 3 weeks! How did I survive?"

"3 weeks is not that long, Sulaeke, although I admit it has seemed longer." The front door opened suddenly.

Sulaeke squealed with delight. "They are here!" she exclaimed, springing from her chair and grabbing Sadaeth's arm to drag her to the door.

"Father!" Sulaeke embraced her father tightly, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "I missed you. I hope you do not leave us again for some time!" she said before moving on to her brother.

"You go into the living room and make yourselves comfortable. I will make us something to eat," Sadaeth offered, entering the kitchen through a door to the right of the entryway.

The rest of the family did as she said, and chose their favorite chairs; Sulaeke's being the small armchair next to the fireplace.

Sinking into the cushions, she asked, "So, how did your trip go?" Her father and brother exchanged a glance. "What? Did anything go wrong? Did someone get hurt?"

"No, no, nothing like that," her father assured her. "We spotted a company of orcs traveling across Gondor's land. We sent word back to Minas Tirith, hoping to receive permission from our steward -"

"You say his name with distaste," Sulaeke interrupted. Why is that?"

"Let me finish, Sulaeke, and you will find out. Anyway, the messenger left with haste, and returned in the same manner, although the news he brought with him was, well, not pleasing to the ears."

"What news was that?"

"We were told to report back to the city at once, and leave those insufferable hogs to trample our land. I know not what goes on in Lord Denethor's head, only that it makes no sense to me, or to many of the other soldiers. I say we should wipe out as many orcs as we can while we have the chance!"

"I agree with you father," Sulaeke stated.

Just then, Sadaeth entered the living room holding a tray, on top of which there were 4 cups and 4 bowls of soup. She handed one of each to her father, her brother, Aglaron, and Sulaeke, before sitting down to join the conversation.

"I hope I have not missed too much," she said, sipping her tea contentedly.

"Father has just told me of the scouting trip," Sulaeke informed her. "It appears that Lord Denethor has made a foolish decision."

"I am intrigued. If you would not mind, Father, I would appreciate to be told of the happenings of you expedition as well."

"Not at all, Sadaeth, although this time I will let Aglaron do the honors," he said, nodding his head toward his son.

And so the evening wore on, and one by one, they drifted off to their bedrooms, ready for a good night's sleep.

The next morning, Sulaeke awoke extra early, rushing into the kitchen to find Sadaeth. She found her more quickly than she had expected, swinging the kitchen door open and crashing right into her older sister.

"Whoa!" Sadaeth exclaimed, catching Sulaeke by the arm before she fell over. "Slow down!"

"Sorry, Sadaeth," Sulaeke apologized, grinning slightly. "Tell me, do you have any plans for this morning?"

"Not unless you have made some for me, little sister," Sadaeth teased.

"Have no doubts! I always come prepared."

"Alright then. What is your idea?"

"Aglaron and Father are still asleep, and I thought that, while we have the time, we could run to the market place and pick up a gift for them."

"That's a wonderful idea, Sulaeke!" Sadaeth exclaimed, clasping her sister on the shoulder. "Let me go get my cloak and we will be off. You had better put on something besides your nightgown as well," she pointed out.

Sulaeke smiled as she hurried back to her bedroom to change. She wanted to wear something that would look really nice on her, something that would turn heads while they walked.

Roughly pulling open her closet door, she rummaged through her dresses, pulling out a plain, but beautiful sky blue summer dress. She stood before her mirror and held it up in front of her, marveling for a moment at how perfectly it went with her eyes. She quickly jerked it over her head, and, pleased with her appearance, darted out of the room.

The third level of Minas Tirith really didn't look any different in the morning than it did any other time of the day, but the air certainly seemed fresher, and somewhat cleaner than usual.

Sulaeke and Sadaeth strolled past shops and stands, looking for a suitable gift. It was sometimes very difficult to come across anything appropriate for anyone, let alone for two soldiers.

Sadaeth continually reminded Sulaeke that they were not only 2 soldiers, but also dear family members. Her ranting only made Sulaeke more determined to find something spectacular.

Turning a corner, Sulaeke saw it – the perfect gift.

"Look there!" she pointed to a large stand, within which there were dozens of gleaming silver knives, each with a uniquely decorated sheath, some plain leather, others covered in delightfully sparkling jewels.

"Oh, we shall have to get them one of those!" Sadaeth cried with glee.

"And one for me as well?" Sulaeke questioned eagerly.

"No, Sulaeke, you do not need one. You can buy one when you have your own money."

Sulaeke sighed in defeat. "I suppose you are right sister. Let's buy what we need and be off." Marching up to the stand, Sulaeke and Sadaeth began to look through the stacks of knives for the perfect ones, feeling slightly out of place being the only women there.

Receiving several strange looks, Sulaeke unsheathed one of the knives, staring in awe at the beautiful craftsmanship. Something was carved into the metal, but Sulaeke suspected it was Elvish of some sort, for she could not read it. She was positive it translated into some inspirational phrase.

She contemplated asking the stand owner what it said, but decided to just give it to Sadaeth to buy for Aglaron, due to the fact that an uncomfortably large man was staring at her, unblinking, in a disturbing manner.

Sulaeke waited a few moments after handing the knife to her sister, before asking, "Sadaeth, can we go now?"

"Why? You seemed very eager to be here a few minutes ago."

Sulaeke nodded her head towards the strange, ever ogling man. "See what I mean?"

"Oh, don't worry about him, Sulaeke. He won't hurt you," Sadaeth said, giving the man a dirty look.

The man seemed to grow angry at this, taking a step toward them.

"You got a problem with us, big guy?" Sadaeth said with a tone that clearly said 'back off, or I will hurt you'.

"How dare you talk to me that way!" he roared.

"I'll talk to you any way I want to, you obnoxious pig!"

"Um, Sadaeth?" Sulaeke broke in. "Maybe we should just go."

"Sadaeth seemed to relax some, which was good. It saved the man a lot of unnecessary pain. Usually, Sadaeth acted calm and composed, but she had a short fuse, so to speak, and she could become very violent. She turned back to the stack of knives she had been rummaging through, and picked out the one she wanted. She quickly proceeded to pay for the blades, and, grabbing Sulaeke's arm, turned to leave.

The large man, however, was not so passive. Catching Sadaeth off guard, he snatched her arm and turned her around, twisting her wrist so that she cried out in agony.

"Excuse me, sir, but what do you think you are doing?" Someone protested, seizing the man's wrist and jerking it away from Sadaeth's. The newcomer shoved the man backwards, causing him to stumble, bumping into several onlookers on the way. Another man, with reddish-brown hair, gently hauled Sadaeth, who had fallen to the ground, back onto her feet, just as the other gentleman returned.

"Are you hurt badly?" the man supporting Sadaeth asked sympathetically.

"No, no, I will be fine," Sadaeth insisted.

"What is your name?" he queried.

She looked at him warily for a moment. "Sadaeth. And this is my younger sister, Sulaeke.

"I am Boromir, and this is my little brother, Faramir," he said, glancing back at the other man as if to identify him. Faramir nodded his head at her in greeting. "Honestly, Miss, you need to be more careful with whom you pick fights," Boromir concluded.

"I can pick fights with whoever I want to," Sadaeth remarked. "Thank you for your help. Good day, gentlemen." With that, she turned and left, leaving Sulaeke to follow.

"I'm sorry for my sister's behavior, sirs," she said blushing slightly as the younger one looked at her. He was very good looking; wavy, shoulder length blonde hair, and light blue eyes. Not that the older one wasn't handsome, what with his big brown eyes and muscular build, but Sulaeke decided that Faramir, being a younger sibling himself, could relate more easily to her. "Thank you very much," she repeated, before she too walked away.

"Those are definitely two of the more interesting women I have seen in Gondor lately," Boromir joked, slapping his brother on the shoulder.

"I agree completely. Let's just hope they get home before the 'obnoxious pig' comes back for revenge," Faramir said sarcastically, yet his face clearly displayed his concern.

"You worry too much, little brother," Boromir said cheerfully. "They'll be fine."

"Do I worry too much, or are you just too optimistic?"

Boromir laughed. "We had better get home before Father has a cow. We should have been back half an hour ago." Faramir's smile faded. "It'll be fine," Boromir added reassuringly. "I'll make sure he knows it was entirely my fault."

"But will he believe you?"

"I suppose you have a point there. But don't be bothered. Let's go." Boromir began the hike up the stairs to the fourth level, and Faramir hurried along beside him.


	2. The Promotion

**Author's Note:**

I don't have much to say this time. Thank you for your reviews, and remember to keep writing them!

**Sulaeke: Chapter Two**

Upon catching up to her sister, Sulaeke asked, "Why were you so rude to them? They were helping us, you know."

"I know and I admit, I feel terrible. I guess I felt, well, like I needed to get out of there. I was embarrassed, I suppose, what with all those people staring."

"Yes, now that you mention it, I agree. Let's get home."

Sulaeke and Sadaeth entered the house and went directly to the kitchen, where they could tend to Sadaeth's wrist. Shortly after they had settled down in their chairs, Aglaron entered the room.

"What happened to your wrist?" he said in an alarmed voice.

"Some man in the village twisted it," Sadaeth responded meekly.

"Why did he do that? Why I aughta -"

"No, Aglaron, I deserved it. I was rather rude to him."

"He was even ruder to us than you were to him!" Sulaeke exclaimed.

"What did he do?"

Sulaeke relayed the story to Aglaron. "And then, just when I thought Sadaeth was done for, these two men came and saved her!"

"Oh, yes?" Aglaron said, almost mockingly.

"It's the truth! Tell him, Sadaeth!"

"It is true. They were very kind."

"Who were these two men?" he pressed, making himself some coffee.

"I do not know exactly who they were. They said their names were... oh, what were they, Sadaeth?"

"Their names were Boromir and Faramir, I believe."

Aglaron nearly spit out his coffee, only managing to swallow it at the last moment.

"Boromir and Faramir?" he repeated. "Do you not realize who you were speaking to?"

"I'm afraid we don't, Aglaron. Mind filling us in?" Sadaeth asked agitatedly.

"You had a nice little chat with the steward's sons this morning!" Aglaron revealed incredulously.

"What?!?" Sulaeke shrieked. Sadaeth's eyes widened and she slumped back in her chair, no doubt recalling the way she had spoke to them.

"Yeah," Aglaron said. "I wonder what they were doing in the third level market. I suppose they were running an errand of some sort. We do have the best market in Minas Tirith. Speaking of which, what were you girls doing in the market this morning?"

"Oh yes!" Sadaeth announced proudly. "We picked up a few gifts for you and Father." She snatched a small bag off of the counter behind her, pulling out the gorgeous knife that Sulaeke had chosen for Aglaron.

"What do you think?" Sulaeke asked expectantly, watching as Aglaron inspected his new weapon.

"It is lovely," Aglaron whispered, running his fingers up and down the silver blade. "Thank you," he said, a smile lighting up his face.

"I will take the other one to Father," Sulaeke offered, reaching into the bag and grasping the second knife.

The morning after next, Sulaeke crawled out of bed later than usual, hearing voices in the kitchen. Thinking about the possibility of visitors, she grabbed a cream colored household dress and slipped it on, just before hearing a small knock on the door.

Opening it a crack, she saw that it was only Sadaeth. Sulaeke swung the door open wider and let her sister in.

"Good news has arrived," Sadaeth announced, opening the windows in the bedroom and handing Sulaeke a hairbrush.

"What is it?" Sulaeke asked, pulling the hairbrush through her mess of snarls.

"Aglaron has been promoted to a higher rank. He is to join the Ithilien Rangers. The messenger just left a few minutes ago."

"That is wonderful! Where is he now? I would like to congratulate him."

"He is with Father in the living room. Apparently, they have already begun planning the celebrations."

"That doesn't surprise me. Could you help me with this?" Sulaeke asked, pointing a disgusted finger at her hair.

Sadaeth laughed softly. "Of course I will. Just hold still."

After Sulaeke's hair had been defeated, she ran into the living room and embraced Aglaron warmly.

"Congratulations!" she said ecstatically.

"Thank you," he laughed, twirling her around. "Perfect timing for you to have bought me that new knife."

"Yes, I imagine so. I'm so proud of you. Who is the captain of the Ithilien Rangers?"

Aglaron's face fell into a scowl. "Lord Faramir." Sulaeke's heart fluttered at his name.

"What is so bad about that?"

"I just don't understand how he can be a suitable captain at age 21! He is three years younger than I am!"

"I see," Sulaeke tried to sound miserable, for Aglaron's sake, when on the inside, she was in wonderfully good spirits. She wasn't too young for him after all!

Aglaron turned to his father. "I have to be down to the training arena soon. I had better leave now."

"You are right. We will see you at the end of the day," his father said in dismissal.

"Good luck," Sulaeke and Sadaeth said, watching as he snatched up his weaponry and headed for the door.


	3. Wicaiven

**Author's Note:**

Thank you for your reviews! Here is chapter three of my story. Hope you enjoy, and remember to keep reviewing!

**Chapter 3: Wicaiven**

Aglaron walked brusquely down the street toward the training arena. To be honest, he wasn't overjoyed with his promotion. As much as he loved to fight, he didn't like being away from home for very long, and the Rangers of Ithilien had previously been away for months at a time. It wasn't as though he could decline the position, not with his father and sisters so proud.

Aglaron shook his head, shoving the door to the arena open and stepping in. Brushing his short dark hair out of his face, he drew his sword, scanning the large room for someone to spar with. His eyes came to rest on a tall and burly man named Wicaiven, with black hair and similar eyes.

Strolling over, Aglaron met his eyes, and Wicaiven drew his sword.

"Kinda small, ain'tcha?" Wicaiven taunted, swinging his blade dangerously.

"Hardly," Aglaron retorted, and the fight began.

"Get ready to ride!" someone called. "We make for Minas Tirith!" Faramir listened as his orders were administered. He wandered about the encampment, watching his rangers hastily tossing things into their packs. It seemed that Sauron had no intentions of attacking Gondor any time soon, and Faramir's men needed to rest and spend time with their families back in Minas Tirith.

Faramir went to his horse to prepare her for the journey home. He put a bridle over her head and a saddle on her back, tightening the girth before mounting.

Soon, everything was arranged for travel, and they set off, moving quickly across the plains.

Sulaeke and Sadaeth rushed about the kitchen, removing various ingredients from the cupboards. They planned to bake a treat for their father, who had 'important business to attend to' with his captain, and Aglaron, when they returned.

Sadaeth reached down and yanked open a drawer, taking out a wooden spoon to be used for stirring their concoction.

Sulaeke wobbled over next to Sadaeth, carrying a large bag of flour. She set the bag on the counter, and opened it, using the spoon to measure out a portion of it to dump into a bowl displayed before her.

"Let's get cooking," she said uncertainly, pouring the powder into the bowl.

Aglaron found that Wicaiven was indeed more powerful than he had first expected. Although Aglaron was clearly the smarter of the two, Wicaiven specialized in brute strength, nearly breaking Aglaron's arm with every blow he heaved.

Finally, Wicaiven managed to shove Aglaron up against the wall of the arena, holding his sword to the younger man's throat.

"Surrender yet, pip-squeak?"

"Nope!" Aglaron exclaimed, raising one foot and kicking Wicaiven in the stomach, causing him to fall to the ground. Aglaron darted over to him and held the tip of his sword to Wicaiven's chest.

"Do _you_ surrender?" he said, smirking.

"Why you little -" Wicaiven struggled to rise, but Aglaron did not move his sword.

"Do you surrender?" he repeated.

"Alright, alright, I surrender!" Wicaiven cried. Aglaron removed his blade, allowing his opponent to rise. Aglaron put his sword away and reached to shake hands, but Wicaiven did not return the gesture.

"Cheater."

"What did you call me?" Aglaron said heatedly.

"C–h–e–a–t–e–r. Cheater." Wicaiven grinned broadly, realizing that Aglaron, who had stayed remarkably calm throughout their entire fight, was finally getting riled up.

"I dare you to say that again, big shot," Aglaron said, grabbing the man by the front of the shirt so that they were face to face.

"Cheater," Wicaiven said slowly and tauntingly. Bringing his fist back, Aglaron punched Wicaiven squarely on the jaw.

Wicaiven paused for a moment with his head snapped sideways, stunned and infuriated that Aglaron would have the guts to hit someone so much bigger, stronger, and older than he was. He turned his face back to Aglaron, who met his gaze confidently.

"I'm gonna beat the life out of you, kid," he threatened.

"I'd like to see you try," Aglaron responded boldly. Wicaiven gripped Aglaron's shirt tightly, and, in an instant, had nearly given his adversary a broken nose. Aglaron returned with an attack of his own, kneeing the other man harshly in the stomach, before tackling him and rolling across the ground. Aglaron stood, ready to charge once more, but was shocked when he felt a firm grip on his arm, preventing him from moving forward.

"What -?" he started. He looked up, only to see that Wicaiven was being held back as well.

"What is your name?" The man's grip on Aglaron's arm tightened.

Aglaron paused, gritting his teeth in resentment. "Aglaron. And you are?"

The man ignored his rude comment. "You are one of the Ithilien Rangers, are you not?"

"Yes, I am," Aglaron said, straightening slightly, surprised that someone besides him and his family knew of his promotion.

"Then you are under my brother's command. I hope that you are not as immature on duty as you obviously are on leave, for I fear you will find that Faramir does not tolerate idiocy as well as your former captain apparently did." The man let go of Aglaron's arm and turned to leave. "Oh yes," he remarked. "To answer your question, I am Lord Boromir, son of Lord Denethor, the steward of Gondor. Good day to you." Finally, Boromir left, leaving Aglaron with mixed feelings of confusion, embarrassment, anger and pain from his bleeding nose.


	4. The Second Meeting

**Author's note:**

Thank you for your reviews! I have recently updated my account biography, in case you are interested. It does not say anything about me, personally, but it explains my policies on fan-fiction. Please take a look!

Anyway, here is chapter four of **'Sulaeke'**. Hope you enjoy!

**Sulaeke: Chapter Four**

Aglaron opened the front door as silently as he could, hoping that no one would notice his entrance. However, it was not to be. Just at that moment, Sadaeth stepped out of the kitchen. Aglaron clasped a hand over his nose, praying that she had not seen his injury.

This was not to be either. "What happened to your nose!" She shrieked, taking hold of his arm and wrenching it away from his face. "Ewe..." She furrowed her eyebrows and led him quickly into the kitchen, pushing him into a chair.

"Yuck!" Sulaeke exclaimed upon seeing the crimson blood that was steadily leaking from her brother's nose.

"Thanks a lot," Aglaron mumbled, sounding slightly nasal.

"Sulaeke, get me a damp rag," Sadaeth instructed, all the while inspecting her brother's nose. "I don't think it's broken..."

It had been three weeks since Faramir and his men arrived in Minas Tirith, and although they all desired to spend as much time as possible with their families, training needed to begin again.

Faramir had just sent a messenger to gather up his men and tell them to meet in the training arena on the sixth level at half past noon. The present time was six o'clock, and Faramir had forced himself out of bed just twenty minutes ago.

He headed out of his chambers into the large hallway, and, seeing as how he had nothing else to do, he resolved to take a walk, and proceeded to jog down the long flight of stairs to the sixth level, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going.

Sulaeke lay on her bed with her eyes closed, too lazy to get up, and yet too awake to sleep. She was daydreaming of many pleasant things, most of which included Lord Faramir. She had some errands to run today on the fourth level, and she imagined herself meeting him there. Even more farfetched, she imagined herself being able to say something without embarrassing herself like she knew would happen if her dreamy encounter were to come true.

Toppling out of bed, Sulaeke dressed herself in a light purple summer dress, pulling her hair into a loose bun on top of her head. She retrieved a chain necklace, decorated with a single purple stone, from the top of her dresser and draped it around her neck.

Skipping out of the room, she slipped on her shoes and ran out the front door into the bright sunlight, planning to return before her other family members woke up.

Even this early in the morning, the streets were crowded with people, making it difficult to get anywhere very quickly. Sulaeke moved as swiftly as possible to the staircase leading up to the fourth level.

Scanning her surroundings, she made her way to the stand she was seeking: the fruit stall. Fumbling through the mountains of bananas, pears and watermelons, she carefully chose the ones she wanted. She hastened over to the clerk and purchased her items, finishing her errands faster than she thought she would.

As she strolled back to the flight of steps heading to her home level, she passed the stairway leading to the fifth level. She had never been up there before – it was reserved mainly for the wealthier families, so, being as curious as she was, she decided to have a little adventure.

Turning around, she marched right up to the fifth staircase and began to climb.

Once she reached the top, she was shocked at how much more pleasant the fifth level was compared to the third level. The houses were much bigger and nicer, and the citizen's clothes were fancier than any garment Sulaeke had ever owned.

Sulaeke suddenly felt very out of place and contemplated going right back down to the fourth level, when something in her head screamed, "There's no law that says you can't be up here! Be bold!" So she wandered further into the unfamiliar territory, trying her best to blend in, all the while feeling extremely self-conscious.

Sulaeke suddenly saw something that caught her attention. To her left, there was a stand selling live chickens (a bird that she had always found somewhat amusing). A small man was standing on a raised platform with a chicken on a fetter, hurriedly informing people of the benefits of having a chicken. Sulaeke smiled broadly and scampered over, eager to find out the price of these spectacular birds.

She stood for a moment, watching in awe as the man continued to explain the uses of a chicken, when someone spoke to her suddenly.

"Do I know you?" the person asked. Sulaeke turned around and came face to face with Lord Faramir.

Sulaeke was startled by his sudden appearance, and she yelped in a rather high-pitched fashion, awkwardly stepping backward and crushing a stray chicken's foot, causing it to soar upward in fright, where it began to attack an innocent onlooker's head.

Sulaeke did her best to regain some composure, straightening her hair, clearing her throat and clasping her hands together. Trying to ignore the mystified look on Faramir's face, she said, "Yes, um, I believe we met in the third level market a few weeks ago."

"Yes, I remember now," he said, taking a step backward. "I had better be going. Good day!"

Sulaeke watched him leave and put her head into her hands, thinking, _'Could my life get any worse?'_

Faramir hurried away, amazed that anyone could be that jumpy. Not only was she strange like Boromir had said, she was insane too! And the poor chicken! He shrugged and ran up the steps to the seventh level, deciding that he had had enough excitement for one day.

He strolled across the courtyard and through the doorway into the steward's house. He walked down the long hall back to his chambers and sat at his desk, flipping through some paperwork that needed to be finished in a short time. Sighing audibly, he picked up a quill and began scribbling words onto the paper.

Sulaeke stood for a moment with her head in her hands before slowly raising her eyes. She blushed furiously when she saw that everyone around her was staring at her, and the man running the stand was still attempting to release the onlooker from the chicken's painful grip.

Without thinking, Sulaeke fled toward the downward flight of steps and made a mental note never to show her face on the fifth level again.

Upon finally reaching the third level, she made her way to her house, dropping her groceries off on the counter. She went into the living room and sat in her favorite chair, wishing with all her might that she could squeeze underneath it and hide there forever.


	5. Wicaiven Again?

**Author's Note:**

Here is chapter five of **'Sulaeke'**. I am sorry I have taken so long to update – I have lately found myself stuck fast in the middle of a writer's block. Thankfully, I retrieved my creativity and wrote this chapter.

I have been informed that some people are confused as to how to pronounce my characters' names. So, I am going to tell you. Here we go:

Sulaeke (Soo-lie-kay)

Sadaeth (Saw-die-th)

Aglaron (Agg-lar-rone)

Wicaiven (Wick-aye-venn)

I think that these are all of my characters. If I forgot one, please tell me in a review!

**Sulaeke: Chapter Five**

Within a few short hours, Sulaeke's family was gathered in the living room as Aglaron strung his sword around his waist, preparing himself for his first training session as a ranger of Ithilien.

"I had better go," he sighed, stepping toward the door.

"Good luck!" Sadaeth exclaimed, smiling with her other two family members.

He hurried down the street and up the staircases to the sixth level. He had been to the fifth level a few times, but the sixth level was entirely new to him. He saw the training arena ahead, and made his way to it, making plans to explore a bit before going home.

Upon entering, he saw that not many of the soldiers had gathered yet. The captain, however, was there. Faramir noticed his presence and beckoned for him to come over. Aglaron complied, stopping a few feet away from his new captain.

"So," Faramir began. "You are the new recruit?"

"Yes."

"What is your name?"

"Aglaron." He answered Faramir's questions with little emotion.

"The head of your division is over there." Faramir pointed off to the right. There was a tall, burly man standing in front of a growing group of people. Aglaron mentally groaned. It was Wicaiven. He grudgingly made his way over to where his rival stood.

"Hey look! It's the pip-squeak!" Wicaiven cried, causing a few of the men to chuckle. Aglaron turned a light shade of pink from anger and embarrassment. Wicaiven had no doubt told the story, not including the part about how the fight had been stopped, but more likely exaggerating it until he had beaten Aglaron to a pulp.

"If I remember correctly, I was winning before our fight was broken up," Aglaron retorted.

"You're all talk, kid," Wicaiven said, pointing a finger at Aglaron's chest.

In truth, Aglaron felt like grabbing Wicaiven's finger and ripping it off, instead of simply muttering, "You orc..."

Within seconds, Wicaiven was red with rage. "How dare you call me that!" he fumed. Aglaron realized that he needed to get out of the position he currently found himself in, and quickly. As much as he hated the fact, Wicaiven probably could beat him to a pulp, and he felt he was too young to die.

He hurriedly stepped backwards a few times, his feeling of impending doom growing as Wicaiven stepped forward after him. He hoped the pure terror he was experiencing wasn't evident.

Aglaron hadn't realized that he had continued to move backward until he hit the training arena wall behind him. Wicaiven had continued to follow him, and now there seemed to be no escape.

Wicaiven lifted Aglaron off the ground by the front of his shirt, and was about to carry out the promise he had made on their last meeting, when suddenly, Aglaron was dropped. He fell to his hands and knees, rubbing his neck where his shirt collar had slightly prevented his breathing.

"C-captain Faramir!" Wicaiven chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Wicaiven, could I talk to you for a moment?" Faramir said, intense dislike dripping from his voice.

"Certainly, Captain," Wicaiven responded, looking quite panicky. Faramir motioned with his hand for Wicaiven to follow him as he made his way to a corner of the arena where they could talk in private.

Aglaron stood up a little uneasily, wanting nothing more than to go home and pity himself. Although inside he knew that, had it not been for Faramir he could have died that day, he felt that he had just suffered a large blow to his pride, being saved by someone who was younger than he was. That wasn't how it was supposed to work!

Upon reaching his destination, Faramir shoved Wicaiven up against the wall.

"What in Middle-earth do you think you were doing?" Faramir cried.

"I-I, well, umm..."

"You could have killed him, what with your insurmountable temper!"

"Well, he called me an orc..."

"That's not far from the truth! You're despicable. Go home, Wicaiven."

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Your dismissed! Go home, leave, depart, withdraw yourself from my presence! Are these words foreign to you?"

"But, Captain! You can't be serious! I have a family!"

"You don't have a family, Wicaiven. All you have is your mother, who let me say is not getting any younger! Now go!" Wicaiven huffed angrily and ground his teeth together before turning and marching out of the arena, never to return again.


	6. The Letter

**Author's note:**

Here is chapter 6 of 'Sulaeke'. There are a few references to modern things in this chapter, such as using 'snail mail' (that is NOT the phrase I used, thank goodness). There are a couple of added characters, and although they are not important, I would like to list them now so that readers and writers know that they are mine. Their names are 'Thorgad' and 'Barihim'. I'm sorry for taking so long to update! I have decided to do a short review of what has happened so far. Here goes:

Chapter One: Sulaeke and Sadaeth's brother and Father arrive back home, safe and sound. Sulaeke decides it would be fun to buy a few gifts for them, so they hurry to the marketplace, where they have a brief encounter with the steward's sons; Boromir and Faramir.

Chapter Two: Aglaron is promoted to join the Rangers of Ithilien, and he is not happy with his new captain, Faramir of Gondor. Sulaeke realizes for the first time that she is infatuated with Faramir.

Chapter Three: At the Training Arena, Aglaron gets into a fist fight with another Gondorian named Wicaiven. Boromir interrupts the fight.

Chapter Four: Sulaeke meets Faramir again, and embarrasses herself terribly.

Chapter Five: Aglaron goes to his first meeting as a ranger of Ithilien. Unfortunately, Wicaiven is there, and they almost get into another fist fight. Thankfully, Captain Faramir dismisses Wicaiven.

Please enjoy and review!

**Sulaeke: Chapter 6**

Faramir sighed, suddenly feeling fairly guilty. He looked around for Aglaron, hoping that he had not been hurt. He had told his second in command, Thorgad, to begin the exercises, and he appeared to have done just that.

He found Aglaron rather quickly. He was sparring with another ranger, Barihim by name, and he appeared to be doing quite well. He had a rather unique fighting style, but as long as it worked, Faramir was not concerned.

Faramir hurried over to him and took him away from the crowd of rangers, leaving Barihim partner-less.

"Are you unharmed?" Faramir asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Aglaron said promptly. He was relatively embarrassed by the whole episode. He looked over to where Barihim was standing, obviously desiring to continue their fight.

"I have dismissed Wicaiven."

Aglaron turned back to Faramir. "Why?" he asked incredulously.

Faramir looked at him blankly for a moment. "What?"

"Why did you dismiss him?"

"Well, he has never been… satisfyingly dutiful, and I suppose I had been pondering dismissing him anyway. I found his 'salutation' toward you slightly less than hospitable – it was the 'deciding factor', so to speak." Suddenly, Aglaron had two opinions of Faramir: 1) That he specialized in the art of stealing people's prides, and 2) That he talked way too much.

Sulaeke was bored. More than just bored – she was bored to tears. She needed something to do…

Suddenly, an idea came to her! She scurried into her bedroom and sat down at her desk, pulling out a quill and paper. Sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, she began to write.

Within one hour, her waste basket was full of crumpled papers, and she held the perfect copy of her work in her hands. Blowing on it to dry the ink, she read:

_Dearest Lord Faramir,_

_When I saw your face for the first time, you took my breath away. Your eyes bore deep into my soul, and I felt all of my secrets were exposed. Your smile touched my heart the way no other's had._

_Ever since that moment, I have not slept. I see you in my mind, and I am filled with such happiness and energy that all chance of rest is stolen from me. However, it is not only at night that I think of you. By day, you are everyone that I see. You are all that I desire, everything. Should I ever find another love, it shall not be full, for you have made such an impression on me._

_It is with the deepest sorrow that I realize you could never feel about me the way I feel about you, and I shall be forced to continue to admire you from a distance, as I have done before choosing to compose this letter._

_Though you do not know me by name, it is only fair to you, and to me, that you know of my affections, and I can only hope that you will not be troubled by this information._

_Utmost adoration,_

_Sulaeke_

Sulaeke chuckled slightly. It was perfect! A little exaggerated perhaps, but perfect nonetheless! Now all she needed to do was get it to Faramir somehow… She could not mail it – she would have to use a return address. Perhaps Aglaron would deliver it for her. She hopped out of her chair and ran out into the living room before she remembered that Aglaron was not home. She sighed. She was going to have to wait a while.

She sat in her chair and was once again bored. She waited there for a while, until suddenly she heard the front door open. Thinking it was Aglaron, she jumped out of her chair and ran to the entryway. She was once again put into her state of boredom when she saw that it was only her father. He appeared to be in a very bad mood.

"Are you alright, Father?" she asked innocently.

"I would be alright, had it not been for our imbecile of a steward," he replied angrily.

"You spoke to the steward?"

"No, no, _I_ didn't speak to him. He sent word to my captain, ordering him and his troops to march out of Gondor to find and kill a band of orcs that have been causing trouble near the city. I shall have to leave again."

"Oh, Father, that's terrible! And you have only been home for a few weeks!"

"The least I can hope is that Aglaron will not have to leave again for a while, so that someone would be here with you two. I wouldn't count on that though. So far our luck has failed us often."

Sadaeth had apparently heard the conversation, and she walked out of her room to join Sulaeke and her father. "How long will you be away?"

"It is hard to say. According to my captain, the orcs we will be chasing are capable of moving much more swiftly than others we have chased. It could be a few months."

"Oh, no." Sadaeth sat down in a chair and put her head in her hands. "When will you be leaving?"

"The Captain said to be ready by dawn. I should put my things together now." He walked stiffly into his bedroom and closed the door. Sulaeke and Sadaeth heard the opening and closing of drawers and angry muttering. They looked at each other.

"I say Father and Aglaron should simply resign from the army," Sadaeth commented. "They are away too often, and we hardly get to see them anymore. If Mother were still alive, she would never have let them enter in the first place. Then we wouldn't be in this mess."

"I know. It's getting too hard to keep this family together as it is. The last thing we need is to have one of those two killed."

Sadaeth nodded her head gloomily. "I wish there was something we could do."

"Me too."


	7. Deliverance of the Letter

**Author's Note:**

Here is chapter 7 of 'Sulaeke'. It is kind of short, because nothing much happens here; it is an opening to the big events in the next chapter. Read and enjoy!

**Sulaeke: Chapter 7**

Aglaron walked through the front door of his house. He hadn't felt like exploring the sixth level after practice. It had gone relatively well after Wicaiven had left and Faramir had gone back to minding his own business, but man was he tired! He hoped he wouldn't have to work this hard at their next meeting, which was scheduled to be held in two days.

Suddenly, Sulaeke ran into the entryway. "You're back!" she cried joyfully.

"I was gone forfour hours, Sulaeke, not a lifetime," he said, smirking.

Sulaeke grinned. "I have to ask you a favor."

"Okay, what?"

"Next time you see Prince Faramir, could you give him this?" She held out her letter, which was now nicely folded and closed inside of an envelope.

"What is it?"

"You don't need to know that. It's… personal."

"Well, I'm not delivering it unless I can read it first."

"Aglaron, you're 24 years old, quit acting like a 12-year-old," Sadaeth scolded playfully.

Just then, their father came out of his bedroom, carrying with him a large bag filled with the things he was going to need on his trip.

"What is that for?" Aglaron asked.

"I have to leave again. The steward wants us to hunt down some orcs."

"How can he do that?" Aglaron cried angrily. "You and those troops just got back a few weeks ago!"

"I know. I feel the same way. We have to leave tomorrow morning."

"That soon?"

Their father nodded his head and sat down in a nearby chair.

"Father," Sadaeth began. "Sulaeke and I, we were, um, thinking. You are getting older, Father, what if you just resign from the army? You wouldn't have to go on any more scouting trips, any more orc hunts, you could just stay here with us, at home."

Their father scowled. "I couldn't do that! There are many men older than me who are still in the army. I'm not retiring until they do."

Sadaeth sighed and stepped away, shrugging in Sulaeke's direction. Maybe there really wasn't anything they could do.

Faramir met up with Thorgad in the same arena as before two days later. None of the men had arrived yet, so all they could do was stand and wait, going over a few of the plans they had made for the day. This meeting was going to be their last before leaving again, and longer than the previous one.

Voices were heard approaching the arena. In a moment, several soldiers had entered, among them Aglaron and Barihim. They were talking and laughing happily.

Aglaron approached Faramir. "Here," he said. "My little sister wanted me to give this to you. I don't know what it is." He handed Faramir an envelope. Faramir shrugged and tucked it away in his pocket. The meeting began.

Once everyone was so tired they could hardly move, Faramir spoke. "Thorgad and I have arranged for anyone who's interested to come down to the bar on the fifth level tonight. Drinks are on me." The men cheered and Faramir dismissed them.

Once all the soldiers had left, Faramir hurried home. He walked to his chambers, shutting the doors behind him.

Sitting down on his bed, he opened the letter Aglaron's sister had written for him.


	8. The Steward

**Author's Note:**

Here is Chapter Eight of '_Sulaeke_'. A lot happens in this chapter, and I really need to know what you think. Remember though: no flames. Enjoy!

**Sulaeke: Chapter 8**

Faramir sat in silence for a moment after he had opened and read his letter. What was he supposed to do? It was usually Boromir who got this sort of thing.

He left his bedroom, walked down the hall and knocked on Boromir's door.

"Come in!" he heard his brother call. Faramir pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Uh, Boromir? I need your advice on something."

"What?"

Faramir handed the letter to Boromir and waited as he read it. Suddenly, Boromir began to laugh.

"What's so funny? I've got a stalker!" Faramir snapped, taking the letter back.

"So, who is she, Faramir?"

"I don't know her personally. She's the sister of one of my soldiers. But, Boromir, what do I do with it?"

"Just ignore it, Faramir. It's nothing," Boromir said, his smirk never fading.

Later that evening, Faramir headed down to the bar on the fifth level. He felt like he needed a drink. Or two. Or three. He couldn't stop thinking about that letter. Why was it bothering him so much?

He turned a corner and entered the bar. He got a drink for himself, and ordered drinks for his soldiers as they arrived.

Pretty soon, Faramir couldn't see straight. He didn't usually get drunk, and although he was enjoying himself greatly, he supposed the alcohol was having a stronger affect on him than on the others. He pondered giving Thorgad the rest of his money and leaving for home.

He looked over and saw that Aglaron was approaching him. He looked to be very drunk as well.

"So, what did that letter my sister sent you say?"

"Nothing," Faramir responded. He didn't want to get into that right now.

"You know, your father is quite a guy, sending troops out again just a few weeks after they got back home."

Faramir looked down at his glass, swishing its contents around uncomfortably. He didn't want to talk about his father, either.

"I don't like him." Aglaron looked at Faramir expectantly.

After a short pause, Faramir said, "Everyone has their own opinion, I suppose." He really did not like the direction this conversation was going.

"He's _not_ a very good steward."

Faramir could feel himself growing irritated. "Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself."

Aglaron frowned. Faramir stood up and walked toward the door. Suddenly, an alarmed voice called his name. He recognized it as Thorgad's.

"Faramir, look out!" Out of habit, Faramir drew out the small knife he kept on his belt and whipped around. He was shocked when the blade made contact with something.

Aglaron had been holding his knife as well, but it slowly slipped to the ground. Faramir jumped backward in horror, pulling his knife out of Aglaron's stomach. The older man toppled to the ground.

Faramir's head felt stuffy, like he was in a nightmare. After a short pause, he collapsed to his knees, clenching his fists so tightly he could have strangled something. He looked at Aglaron. He was on his back, blood seeping openly from his wound. Faramir thought he was going to throw up. How could this have happened?

He felt Thorgad grab his arms from behind and pull him away. He was saying something, but Faramir couldn't register a word.

Someone rushed over to Aglaron's side and attempted to stop the bleeding. Faramir wished Thorgad would stop talking. His head was throbbing and the room was turning strangely fuzzy. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't. He needed to help Aglaron. He couldn't just let him die there.

He tried to stand up, but Thorgad held firmly onto his arm. Letting Faramir see what he had done couldn't help the situation any.

Sadaeth hurried about the kitchen, snatching ingredients out of the cupboards for dinner that evening. Their father was already gone, so she didn't need to cook as much. Ever since her mother had died, she had done the cooking. Not because she wanted to, but because the other three members of her family were better at poisoning people than at feeding them.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door. She left the kitchen and answered it to see a 30, maybe 40-year-old soldier standing there.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Is your father here?" he queried.

"No, he is away on military business. Why?"

"I'm afraid that Aglaron suffered a… a serious injury in a fight in the bar."

Sulaeke had just come into the entryway. She had apparently heard what the man had said.

"What happened?" she asked urgently.

"He is -" the man paused and hung his head. "He is dead."

Sadaeth felt as though she had had the wind knocked out of her. Her mouth was open wide in shock. The man was lying – he had to be.

"How?" she choked out.

"He attempted to attack Lord Faramir. It was self-defense."

She could hear Sulaeke's sobs behind her. The man who had delivered the message stood there uncomfortably. Sadaeth wanted to dismiss him, but she couldn't bring herself to speak again.

"We will send out a messenger to retrieve your father," the man offered. Shuffling his feet, he stepped back and dismissed himself. Sadaeth shut the door behind him.

For the first time in her life, Sulaeke felt true rage – toward the one person she never thought she could dislike in the least: Lord Faramir.


	9. The Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

This is the last chapter of 'Sulaeke'. In fact, it's not really even a chapter - it is the epilogue. There is another _Author's Note_ at the end of the epilogue – make sure you remember to read it! Enjoy!

**Sulaeke: The Epilogue**

It had been four years since then. Sulaeke was 22 and engaged to a man named Tranrak. After Aglaron's death, Sulaeke felt no affection toward Faramir whatsoever. She died 34 years after her marriage.

Faramir, who continued to feel guilty about what he had done, managed to convince his father to financially support Sulaeke's family until the death of Sadaeth and her husband.

Sadaeth, who was 24, had married Aglaron's friend, Barihim, and currently had one son named Aldok. She lived the following 47 years, dying one year after Barihim.

Their father had finally agreed to retire from the military and live with Sadaeth and Barihim in their new house on the _sixth _level. He died three years later, at the age of 74.

So, there you have it. Sulaeke is finished. I hope you enjoyed! I'm begging you to review on this one. I really need your opinions.

I am going to write another story soon, but before I begin posting, I would like to have about half of it finished. I will, however, post a full summary of it shortly. Keep in mind that I don't only write 'The Lord of the Rings' fanfictions, so the upcoming piece might be something different.

Thank you –

Setszuki


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